


A Good Heart

by EatTheFeather



Series: Adventures in Do-Gooding ft. Hilda Smith [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asgard, Other, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-10-08 10:50:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17385107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EatTheFeather/pseuds/EatTheFeather
Summary: Of all the gifts her father bestowed upon her, her dark hair was the least terrible.





	1. Eldrid The Naïve

_"Eldrid was a fiery haired beauty, as gentle as she was fair, her kindness only matched by her naivety. She caught the eye of many a suitor; many with intentions less than noble. Her father shielded her as best he could from the advances of such nefarious men, but all his wisdom was lost on Eldrid. She fell in love."_

* * *

 

_"Her heart's desire was a wicked one; empty promises easily slid from his silver tongue. He fed her the sweetest of lies, whilst her father could only offer bitter truth. It did not take long for Eldrid to be swept off her feet. A mouse snatched by an eagle's talons. She bore him a child and soon discovered she was not the only one."_

* * *

 

" _She'd learnt of his infidelities on the day his monstrous children were banished; serpents and wolves, half-dead creatures of all sorts. Eldrid became frightened of what she could spawn. Distraught and brokenhearted, she sought the king's guidance. He counselled her as he had been; discard the fruit from the poisoned seed."_

* * *

 

_"The child was born on a cold evening with a full head of dark wavy hair. Wrapping it in blankets and kisses, Eldrid wept, as her father pried the sleeping baby from her arms. Although instructed not to, she named her daughter. A final whisper, before parting with her newborn: Hilda."_

* * *

 

_"Eldrid never saw the light of the next morning. A lady may become accustomed to the pain of love lost, but there are no cures for a mother who's lost a child."_


	2. Ashes To Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good people do good things, even when they're alone.

_"Alvis traveled far to banish the child, but when she awoke and stared up at him, all he saw was Eldrid's eyes, brown and innocent, nothing like the father's. In that moment, he knew the child had a good heart."_

* * *

A glass jar sat on Hilda's windowsill. Barely legible handwriting was scrawled along the label.

_Grandpa_

He wasn't the only one to vanish that day: Mrs. Desmond from across the hall, Mr. Bortelli from the bodega, Nancy, Jess, George... Most of her friends and neighbours. She felt odd sitting in the apartment all alone. It was too empty.

Her guilt also nagged at her, in the back of her mind. Though she didn't know  _what,_ she felt like she could've done  _more_. She should've done  _something._ Something other than claw at her grandfather's hands as he slipped through her fingers. Something other than cry herself to sleep. She sat on her bed and stared at the jar.

"What should I have done?"

The jar did not answer.

"I'm sure there was something I could've done..."

The room was silent.

"I know I can do something _now,_ but I don't know what!"

The ashes sat unperturbed in the jar.

"You're right, you're right! I hate when you're right!"

She stood up quickly, waving her hands dismissively. She sighed. It helped, but it wasn't the same as arguing with him for real. They had the best banter.

" _We still do, you wretched child!_ I know, gramps... You're not gone yet."

A small pat to the metal lid. 

"I'll be back soon. Got some sweeping to do. If anything's going to blow these people away, it'll be me."

A half-hearted chuckle escaped her. She left her bedroom, giving the jar one last wave goodbye and a false smile. It was for no one else but her, trying to convince her lazy self that the boring task ahead was for a good reason. She never liked doing chores, the only way she could was with music, but she'd lost her headphones.

She was already making excuses not to do it...

"Good people do good things, even when they're alone."

A mantra she repeated every time her back ached from scooping strangers up into clean glass jars. And every time she left money on the counter of the empty bodega. And every time she walked past Avengers tower and felt like smashing a window (not that there were many left). She knew it wasn't their fault. Just like it wasn't hers.

When she came back, it was dark. The broom was tossed aside and her backpack clinked as she gingerly set it down on the couch.

She sat down next to it, exhausted, but she couldn't go to sleep yet. She had jars to label.

 


	3. Oh Captain, My Captain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All children look up to someone. They're very short.

_October 26th, 1941_

_Hilda's sixth birthday. Grandpa had a surprise._

_It was a tiresome trip, but when the blonde man knelt down, Hilda's eyes lit up. For that moment alone, it had all been worth it, the tickets, the crowds... Alvis was somewhat relieved. She needed a good person to look up to. The Captain was a good man._

* * *

A dozen or so, glass jars were lined up on the coffee table. Sunlight filtered through them. The labels were smudged and peeling, haphazardly stuck on.

Hilda had to move quickly, before she forgot where she filled each jar. She didn't know all the people she'd picked up, but it _felt_ wrong to leave them unlabeled. Like an unmarked gravestone; gone and forgotten. She didn't want to forget, she didn't want others to forget. The city was busy, but it wasn't _bustling_ anymore. The people who made it bustle deserved that much. A label on a jar with a street name or an address. She barely even knew what she was going to do with them. But at least she was doing  _something._ She wanted to contribute.

The labels weren't very pretty. She could rewrite them neatly in the morning. Stretching her arms, yawning, joints popping, a cacophony of tiredness. She glanced at the window. Daylight.

* * *

_October 26th, 1998_

_Hilda's sixty-third birthday. Grandpa had a surprise._

_Though she was set to turn sixty-three, Hilda looked and acted nothing like a sixty-three year old should. Alvis chuckled to himself; after all these years, she still feigned ignorance of her otherworldly lineage to spare his feelings. She must've known by now, all her friends were turning grey and as she grew apart from them, she'd somehow manage to make new ones. A charismatic girl, she was. A trait inherited from her father, no doubt._

_She unwrapped her present._

* * *

She needed to rest. She hadn't felt like her usual self during the past few days. She blamed the lack of sleep. Or the grief. One or the other. 

Whichever one it was, grieving or tired, she'd be much more efficient with a well-rested head. Her grandfather's voice echoed in her mind.

_"You'll be of no use to anyone if you're too tired. Get to bed, you wretched child."_

She smiled to herself.  _Wretched child._ Such harsh words, always spoken so lovingly. Her grandfather was a strange man.

Hilda noticed the television, a DVD menu still displayed. The candy wrappers and soda bottles strewn on the floor. She might as well tidy up a  _little_ bit, so as not to anger  _Future Hilda._

She pressed the DVD player's eject button, the disc popping out onto the little tray. She forgot what she had been watching. The red, white and blue stripes struck her. The little star in the middle broke her. She almost cried. Her grandfather was a wonderful man.

* * *

 _It was the most wonderful gift he could've gotten for her. A boxset of her favourite cartoon:_ Captain America, circa 1966.


	4. Collectible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody needs a hobby.

_October 26th, 1941_

_The Captain was very tall._

_Hilda craned her neck to get a better look at his face. The lights, the colourful uniform, the dazzling smile, the loud triumphant music. It was all very impressive._

_He hadn't noticed her yet, she was small and he was busy, shaking hands, signing autographs. She was content to stand in front of him, clutching the cheap pulp paper of her comic book close to her chest and to stare. She wasn't shy, far from it, just... Starstruck._

_A man in a grey suit behind him leaned over the Captain's shoulder and whispered something to him. He looked down. A smile graced his face. He crouched, not in the condescending way most adults had, to pinch her cheeks or tell her how pretty she looked in her dress. He crouched to talk, face to face._

* * *

The apartment was quiet, a gentle breeze blowing in from the open window. The curtains swayed.

Hilda's eyes shot open. She'd fallen asleep on the floor.

She got up, her muscles protesting. She was sore, but not surprised. She must've given up halfway through tidying up, she still had the garbage bag in her hand. She sighed. A shower would help, for sure. She always felt better after a shower. She shuffled over to her bedroom.

* * *

_A gloved hand reached for hers._

_"Hi. I'm Steve. What's your name?"_

_"Hilda."_

_She shook his hand. His finger pointed to the crumpled comic._

_"You like readin' 'em too, huh?"_

_She nodded and smiled._

_"Are you really strong for real?"_

_The Captain chuckled and shook his head._

_"Yes."_

_Her smile faded. She couldn't be smiling if she was going to ask him a serious question. The question she'd come to ask him._

_"Why do you help people?"_

_He looked a little surprised._

* * *

While rummaging through her dresser for something to wear, her eyes wandered to the windowsill.

"Hey, grandpa."

She knew the jar wouldn't answer.

"I'm still figuring that out. It could be my collection."

She let a huff that resembled a chuckle. She wiggled her fingers towards the jar.

"I collect people's ashes and keep them in the basement."

She laughed this time, staring at her bedroom wall. She shrugged.

"Everybody needs a hobby."

She glanced at the wall again. The dark frame caught her eye. The protective glass glinted, making its contents seem almost... Mythical.

* * *

_"I help them, because it's the right thing to do."_

_Hilda's brow furrowed._

_"Are you good all the time? Even when no one's looking?"_

_He placed a hand gently on her shoulder._

_"Good people do good things, even when they're alone."_

_She nodded, a thousand questions about right and wrong buzzing in her head. She forgot all of them when he pointed to her comic again._

_"Did you want me to sign that?"_

* * *

The comic.

She had had it framed. To remember.

A personal memorial to remember the best birthday of her life.

"I know what I can do."


	5. How To Accessorize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Step 1: Fall in love.

_"Exquisite._

_That's what she was._

_The sun caught in her dress, her dress caught every curve. Her hair, stars, her hair._

_He'd never seen hair so colourful, it was blazing. Tucked behind her ear, curling and cascading down her neck, like molten rock._

_Smitten._

_That's what he was."_

* * *

_"Eldrid._

_That was her name._

_A fitting name; a beautiful fire._

_She was a seamstress. Her hands moved with such precision, pulling the needle through smooth silken fabric, piecing together elegant gowns. He watched her work, her own clothing modest, but not unbecoming._

_Still..._

_He would give anything to see her in an elegant gown."_

* * *

_"He'd watched her long enough, hidden among the leaves, disguised in feathers or furs..._

_His mother's name day was the perfect excuse._

_He'd have a gown made for her. Nothing but the best for his mother._

_He'd made all the plans."_

* * *

_"She worked patiently in a dedicated room of the palace. The dress needed to be perfect._

_She pinned and cut and embroidered, from sun up to sun down, the queen graciously keeping her company throughout the day._

_In the evenings, the prince gave her tours of the gardens..._

_At night, she gave him tours of her chambers."_

* * *

_"The gown was finished._

_By far the most sumptuous dress in the queen's collection..._

_He couldn't let her go. He still visited. With and without her knowledge. A moth on the ceiling or a snake in the garden; he took on many forms to keep her in his life._

_His father didn't know. His father could not know.._

_The queen, on the other hand... She knew her son too well. He could keep no secrets from her._

_He loved Eldrid."_

* * *

_"His children..._

_From past lovers..._

_He had not known. Banished like animals._

_His own flesh and blood..._

_Eldrid."_

* * *

_"She'd given him the wonderful news a few days prior._

_Elation._

_He loved her. She loved him._

_Together they'd love their child._

_He knew he would marry her. It was without question. She was going to be a wonderful mother. He held her close to him that night, fingers on her belly, whispering about the life they would build, the kingdom their child would someday rule._

_He showered her with gifts, but she refused them. She was good, she was humble. She had no need for silvery pendants and glittery jewels._

_He'd convinced her to keep a gift from his mother, the queen."_

* * *

_"The bracelet had been on his bed, alongside a handwritten note._

_One of many from the queen's own jewelry box._

_Delicate and golden, engraved with little colourful designs and wispy flowers._

_'You have my blessing. I will speak to your father. Love, Mother'_

_It had slipped so easily onto his beloved's wrist."_

* * *

_"Eldrid shook as she held her baby, whispering sweet nothings to soothe the sorry child. Her father approached, but she wasn't ready. She wasn't ready to give up on her promised life. She slid the bracelet amongst the many blanketed folds and in a final act of rebellion, gave her daughter a name."_


	6. In Memoriam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The Snap", that's what they called it.

_Hilda didn't wear the bracelet much. It was too pretty to wear everyday. She was too scared of breaking it or loosing it. It was the only thing she had from her mother. She had her eyes, her grandfather often told her. So other than her eyes, then._

_She'd worn it every day after the Snap. It made her feel closer to her parents, both of them in a weird way, and Lord knew she needed closeness. Now more than ever._

* * *

The backpack weighed heavy on Hilda's shoulders. A burden she was willing to bear.

It was a long walk from her apartment to Avengers Tower. She knew they'd be there. She'd seen all of them on the news, even the fugitives, addressing the masses. Well, not _all_ of them. "The Snap", that's what they called it. It got them too. She felt sorry for every time she'd gotten angry at them. They were not immune to loss.

She adjusted the straps, pausing for a moment to catch her breath. She didn't notice she'd been jogging. She had very little daylight left and she wanted them to see it. She wanted them to see the memorial she was making. Not for personal glory,  _Oh look at me, I'm so nice and good_... Good people did good things even when they were alone... Not to spite them either. To remind them of all the people they had to save, all those they needed to bring back. To remind them of why they fought in the first place: for all the lives lost in "The Snap" and all the people who remained. 

All the people currently protesting at their front door, not exactly an  _angry_ mob, more of a dissatisfied crowd begging for answers. 

She pushed and shuffled, wiggling her way to the front. A man shoved her hard, almost tossing her to the ground. Luckily, she caught herself before she did, barely avoiding a mother and her child. It was a very confusing forray, the jars in her bag rubbing and clinking, strangers yelling, signs waving.

Eventually, she reached the wooden barriers the authorities had used to contain the droves of people. The officers seemed distracted enough.

She carefully ducked underneath the barricade and ran. The officers were  _not_ distracted enough. They pursued.

* * *

She'd made it into the building. How, she didn't know, she was never much of a runner. She was never much of anything physical, if she was being honest. It was probably the adrenaline.

The police did not look happy. She didn't blame them, someone gunning for the door with a suspiciously lumpy backpack; they were only doing their job. She still couldn't help but find their expressions funny, as she locked the doors and gave them a pitiful smile.

She mouthed a 'sorry', before disappearing. Time to get to work.

It wouldn't take them long to open the doors.

* * *

There weren't enough jars to cover the lobby like she had hoped, but she couldn't carry any more. And it's not like she'd be allowed to make multiple trips. She  _did_ have enough to cover the entire reception desk... And that was good enough.

She set them down, one by one.

_Clink, clink, clink..._

She arranged them by street, making sure every label was visible.

She'd written something on the lids as well.

_'Contents:_

_\- 1 person. (hopefully)'_

She really  _did_ hope she hadn't mixed anybody with someone else.

She reached into the bottom of her backpack for the flowers. 

"Oh. Of course."

They'd been smashed. She laughed a bit at her own foolishness when a harsh voice came from behind her.

"What are you doing?"

A severe looking blonde woman pointed a gun in her direction.


	7. Bang Bang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No guns were harmed in the making of this chapter.

Oddly enough, this was not the first time a gun had been pointed in Hilda's direction.

* * *

_December 13th, 2017_

_It was not cold. Correction. It was cold, but ~~~~she  wasn't. Nothing she couldn't handle. She had a sweater and everything._

_"Just take it, Hildie."_

_He draped warm fabric around her._

_The coat was much too big for her. It fell loosely around her shoulders; she had to bunch up the sleeves if she wanted to use her hands. She didn't need it, but George was stubborn._

* * *

She thought of George. Of all her friends, she missed George the most. Nancy was gentle, Jess was gullible, but George... George was both those things. Her favourite kind of person.

She put her hands up;  _this_ time, surrender seemed the smarter option.

* * *

_George was shivering now. Silly boy._

_He was too chivalrous for his own good. One of these days, someone was going to break his heart._

_His breath puffed in front of him, little clouds spiralling up into the sky, rubbing his arms. As if on cue, it started snowing; big fluffy flakes fell into his strawberry blonde hair. She laughed at him._

_"Let's get you inside, big guy."_

_She was too caught up in staring and bumped into someone._

* * *

Hilda let out a nervous chuckle.

"It's a memorial. I'm not dangerous, I swear."

The woman tilted her head.

"Sounds like something a dangerous person would say."

Hilda smiled now, shaking her head.

"I'm very flattered, miss, but, honestly..."

She gestured to herself.

"...do I look like a criminal?"

The woman quirked an eyebrow.

"You'd be surprised."

Hilda wagged a finger at the woman.

"You're funny. I like you."

* * *

_There was one word to describe the man she'd bumped into: suspicious._

_He gave Hilda a stink eye and kept walking with purpose, one hand in his coat, the other covering his face with his baseball cap._

_It was too obvious. So obvious, it was probably nothing, but a bad feeling settled in her stomach._

_The man crossed the square, heading straight for the bank._

_She'd already buttoned up George's coat, flipping up the collar to shield her face. She gave his arm a squeeze._

_"Get inside. I'm going to do something stupid."_

_Her friend nodded, a little dumbfounded, as Hilda reached into her pocket and grasped a small object in her palm._

* * *

The woman pointed her chin towards the desk littered with jars.

"What's in them?"

Hilda explained, hands still near her head. Her impulse to be funny and say  _'explosives'_ was overridden by her impulse to not get shot.

"People. I mean, their ashes."

She panicked. That sounded bad.

"NOT, not people  _I_... From the... You know, the-"

She snapped her fingers, hoping the woman would understand. Where was her silver tongue  _now?_

* * *

_The man was hiding something shiny in his coat. Shiny and big. Bigger than any gun Hilda had ever seen._

_That same, unsettling sinking feeling. She was really doing this._

_This was going to be the performance of a lifetime._

_Crossing into the middle of the square, Hilda yelled, as loudly as she could._

_"EVERYONE GET DOWN NOW OR I'LL BLOW THIS PLACE TO HELL!"_

_She hoisted the tube in her hand high above her head, her thumb strategically placed atop it. People ran and screamed, throwing themselves to the ground, clearing a large space around her. The man tried to run too._

_She called out to him._

_"YOU! YES, YOU IN THE BASEBALL CAP. GIMME YOUR GUN!"_

_The man stopped in his tracks. He turned to her and smirked._

_Alien tech._

_That's why it looked weird._

_He pointed an alien gun at her._

_"And what if I don't?"_

* * *

 The woman's face softened and the gun was put away.

Hilda breathed a sigh of relief, letting her arms fall to her sides.

The woman was standing next to her now, arms crossed, eyes scanning the labels.

"Why?"

Hilda shrugged.

"They were people and they were just...  _Lying there._ I thought this was better."

The woman nodded. Hilda gently nudged her with her elbow.

"And it'll be a nice surprise for when they come back."

She looked at the woman,  _Black Widow_ , now that she was up close. That was Black Widow pointing a gun at her. No wonder she'd been nervous. Hilda stared at her, secretly hoping that she would agree or even say something dour, like ' _They aren't coming back'_ and confirm,  _finally confirm_ something. Hilda was no different than the people outside, shouting. She needed a sign, an answer. An answer to the question everyone was asking, but not really. Everyone was too scared of what the answer could be.

Should they _hang on_ or _move on_?

* * *

_Hilda looked the man straight in the eye._

_"Then I'll blow you up too."_

_She threatened to press her makeshift detonator and heard more screams as people scrambled to get indoors. Unphased, the man put his finger on the trigger; the entire weapon came alive, glowing a bright blue and humming._

_It was a game of chicken._

_Good, Hilda loved games. Especially ones that made her heart pound this loudly in her chest. The kind of game that gave her sweaty palms and raggedy breaths. The kind of game that made her all too aware of just how alive she was and how much she liked being alive._

_She laughed loudly at the man. He readjusted the gun, steadying it with his shoulder._

_"What's so funny?"_

_Hilda grinned._

_"If you shoot me..."_

_She patted the big coat with her free hand._

_"...you'll blow up anyway."_

_The man swallowed hard. He was just as scared as she was. She would use that to her advantage._

_She took slow, confident steps towards him._

_He took quick, panicked steps backwards._

_"I-I'll shoot! Get back!"_

_He did not._

_She was looking down the barrel of his gun._

* * *

Hilda did not get the answer she was hoping for. She didn'tget  _any_ answer. Black Widow looked sadly upon the fallen and mumbled.

"That's awfully optimistic of you."

Hilda chewed on her lip. What was the answer she was hoping for?

* * *

_The man was shaking, but so was Hilda. Luckily for her, George's coat was just big enough to mask the trembling of her body. Her grip on her 'detonator' tightened, fingers wrapping carefully around the smooth piece of plastic, camouflaging its true nature. The police had snuck up behind them, their barked orders falling on deaf ears. Hilda spoke to the man, voice calm and steady, much to her own surprise._

_"Put it down."_

_The man caved; Hilda had won. The gun was placed on the ground. She quickly kicked it in the direction of the authorities, the weapon skidding to a halt in front of them._

_Her thumb came down and closed the tube of ChapStick with a click, making the man wince. A giggle escaped her. She'd won, but she wasn't out of the woods yet._

_Bomb threats weren't exactly legal._

_She shoved the man into the oncoming swarm of police and bolted as fast as her legs could take her._

* * *

Both answers, simultaneously. That's what she needed, what the  _city_ needed. They needed to rebuild and they needed to remember. They needed  _hope._

* * *

_Ducking into an alley, she smacked into something solid._

_"Oof."_

_The thing groaned. It was someone solid. She'd rammed into someone's chest._

_"Hildie."_

_George! He'd found her. Of course he did, he always found her. She whispered excitedly._

_"George! You found me!"_

_George smiled in that way that he did, crinkling his eyes._

_"I always find you."_

_The sound of boots crunching on snow echoed near them._

_The police! They'd found her. No, they never found her._

_Before the officers could round the corner, she'd grabbed hold of George and held him close. They stood there, stock still, in the middle of the alley._

_The cops ran by without so much as glancing at them._

* * *

"You should come upstairs. The boys will want to see this."

Black Widow's voice broke the silence. Hilda nodded, a tight feeling in her chest.

* * *

_She looked up at George's bewildered face. He stuttered._

_"Did... Did we just? Were we invisible?"_

_Breaking away from him, Hilda fought the mischievous grin forming on her face. She lost. Her tone was laced with sarcasm._

_"Yeah, George, we were invisible."_

_He rolled his eyes at her._

_"I'm just sayin'... That was weird."_

_She winked._

_"I guess I'm just lucky."_

* * *

As she stood in the elevator, awkwardly avoiding Black Widow's scrutinizing gaze, Hilda thought of hope.

She thought of her grandfather.

She thought of her friends.  _She thought of George._

Then she thought of the people she was going to meet. She thought of hope and whenever she did, it always brought her back to them.

Earth's mightiest heroes, as broken and beaten as they had been on the news, they still looked like hope.

And that was good enough.


	8. Empty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tower had been empty a little over two years now...

It was strange. The building had been empty for a while now, they moved upstate or something, it wasn't a  _surprise_... But after the Snap, the emptiness felt  _personal_. Rows and rows of empty hallways, desks and rooms, big windows staring out at a city that felt just as empty. Emptiness had a whole new meaning.

No words were spoken as the two got on the elevator.

* * *

Hilda wrung her hands pensively. Hundreds of questions shoved each other in her brain, fighting for her attention. From the outrageous to the sensible, they wrestled until her mind settled on the important one.

"Why are you bringing me to see the other Avengers?"

Black Widow shrugged.

"You're the Times Square Bomb Hero."

Hilda nodded absentmindedly, until the little click of realisation.

"Wait. When you said 'this'... You meant-"

Hilda's voice trailed off, as her index finger slowly came up to point to herself. Black Widow nodded.

"I meant you."

Before she could formulate another thought, the elevator stopped. The doors slid open and Black Widow stepped out into a vast empty room. There was a counter in the corner where the remaining Avengers were huddled, talking in low voices, dark expressions on their faces. Black Widow turned to her.

"Wait here."

Eyes wide and throat tight, Hilda only managed to nod.

The other woman walked away in long strides, whispering something to the men. Hilda gave a small wave as they turned to look at her. They looked unconvinced.

* * *

Hilda recognized Thor, Doctor Banner and the Captain, of course. His uniform had dulled, but then again, so had his demeanor. Gone was the man she'd admired as a child. The broad shoulders that once stood straight and proud were slumped, his chest sunken. His head hung low, his elbows barely propping him up on the counter. Gone was the man she'd met, she'd aspired to be. The man she saw was an empty shell. All three of them were shells, their eyes staring at her, but looking at nothing. She wondered if  _her_ eyes were empty too.

Hilda heard Black Widow snap at them, her hands coming down hard on the marble surface. In a loud, harsh whisper, she vouched for her.

"We need all the help we can get."

The men shook their heads and Black Widow motioned for Hilda to come over.

"Tell them what you were doing."

Hilda looked back and forth between the sullen faces of the men in front of her and the aggressive one of Black Widow. She cleared her throat.

"Um.. I was making a memorial, a memorial... Downstairs. Miss Widow, ma'am."

Black Widow pressed her further.

"Why?"

Hilda's shoulders tensed straightening her back, Black Widow's tone of voice reminding her of a drill sergeant's.

"B-because, they were just lying there.. _._ "

Hilda slowed down, pausing to think, her nerves giving way and loosening their grip on her thought process.

" ... And if- _when_ they come back, they'll know we care. The people outside too. They're scared... And they need to know that someone else cares..."

They remained silent, Black Widow's face softening to become more like the others, so Hilda continued.

"...they just want answers, because they're scared.  _We're_ scared and you're the only ones with the answers."

The doctor looked to the floor. It was the first time Hilda had seen a grown man cry. Thor spoke up.

"We do not  _have_ the answers."

Hilda felt the prickling of welling tears; she was upset. Seeing Earth's mightiest heroes break down and cry upset her. Seeing a crowd of people afraid and jeering upset her. Seeing her grandfather turn to ash upset her. All those things, all the hardship she'd been through to pull herself up and do something. Still  _no answers_.

_Please don't cry, please don't cry._ She pleaded with herself.

Hilda cried. She was crying and sniffling in a way not so different to a child, wiping at her cheeks and taking in ragged breaths.

"You need to tell  _them_ that." 

She gestured vaguely to the elevator and the direction of the crowd.

"You can't leave a whole city in the dark."

She tried to compose herself, drying her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. Thor's hand quickly grasped at her arm, gripping it tightly, holding her wrist at eye level.

"Where did you get that bracelet?"


	9. How Not To Accessorize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Step 1: Lie.

_For the first few years of her life, Hilda was plagued by night terrors._

_Alvis tried as best he could to calm her during her fits._

_Caught between slumber and wakefulness, frightening images conjured up by her sleep adled mind seemed all too real to a small child. She writhed in her bed, wandered the hallways, stringing together incoherent sentences, tears gliding down her cheeks, distraught and yelling._

_"IT'S GOING TOO FAST."_

_"I'M MOVING TOO SLOWLY."_

_"I WANT TO GO HOME. I WANT TO GO HOME."_

_Her heart would pound in her chest so loudly, Alvis could hear it from across the room. Like a little bird's, he remarked once._

_Come morning, Hilda would only have vague recollections of her nightmares. Bright colours blending in with the walls, falling, fast and slow... A jumbled mess of sensation. It was not until she was a little older, a little more eloquent that she could describe the parts that made sense to her worried grandfather: dead leaves and a train track._

_It was then that Alvis knew the source of the terrifying visions. It was entirely his fault and yet there was nothing he could do._

_Babies were not meant to go through the Bifrost._

* * *

"Where did you get that bracelet?"

Thor asked again. Hilda felt compelled to lie, worried he might take it away if he knew. If he knew it came from another world,  _his_ world, that he would not believe her if she explained. That someone on Earth, someone like  _her,_ had a legitimate claim to such a precious artifact. That he would not let her keep it and she would lose all she had of her mother. So Hilda lied.

"I found it."

Thor's brow furrowed,  _he knew_. He knew she was lying.  _She_  knew, he knew she was lying. His expression was all too familiar. It was the way her grandfather looked at her when he knew she was lying.

"You're lying. Why?"

He was angry and suspicious. She could see it in his eyes, eyes that had been empty with sadness moments ago, set ablaze. His grip on her arm tightened almost painfully. Hilda's eyes widened in panic as she tried in vain to pull away. His voice shook with barely contained rage.

"Where did you get it?"

The Captain intervened, placing himself between Thor and Hilda, pushing on his arm to let go.

"Hey, come on. That's enough."

* * *

_The very next day_ _after the Times Square Bomb Fiasco, Alvis got a visitor..._

_A dark haired man, clad in robes was waiting for him when he got home. The old man became immediately defensive._

_"I've told you before, she has a good heart."_

_The stranger waved his hand and both of them were seated. He spoke, voice low and laced with ancient knowledge._

_"I don't doubt that, Mr. Smith, but after what happened yesterday, she needs to know. She needs to learn how to use her power or she could be a danger to herself and others. You know I can't let that happen."_

_Alvis nodded, he understood. He'd always understood, but he was afraid of losing her, the vibrant young woman he was so proud to call his kin. He didn't want to burden her with such knowledge and see her wilt, like an over watered flower._

_The stranger spoke again, sympathetically, in an effort to comfort the old man._

_"She must know something by now."_

_Alvis nodded again. He'd postponed this as long as he could, too long. Much, much too long. As he sat dejectedly staring at the rug, regretting his decision, the stranger sighed._

_"Tell her."_

_And without another word, the stranger had vanished._

* * *

Thor tried pushing past the Captain, pointing an accusatory finger at Hilda.

"She should not have it! It belongs with me!"

Black Widow interjected on Hilda's behalf, offering up plausible explanations for how she could've found it. Doctor Banner had taken a few steps back, disengaging from the situation. Thor continued his attacks at Hilda, the Captain pushing him firmly whenever he got too aggressive.

"She is a liar! It belongs to Asgard!"

Hilda yelled back at him. A schoolyard reflex, somewhere, buried deep in her subconscious, little Hilda was being yelled at by a little boy. And little Hilda despised being yelled at for no reason.

"I  _am_ of Asgard!"

* * *

_It was a long drive._

_Past cities, forests, road signs and big stretches of nothing. Up, up, up north they went, until they reached the border, then up they went again._

_It was a long quiet drive._

_Alvis had only spoken to the border agent, the radio keeping Hilda company._

_Far from their home in the city, far from any city, Alvis stopped in the Canadian countryside. A small town that Hilda barely remembered. They walked to a house that Hilda barely remembered. Alvis talked about where they came from and why they left._

_Except Hilda knew she was Canadian, it was never a secret. She knew all the stories, the family lore; her terrible father and the death of her mother. Iceland and her grandfather's perilous journey. The Captain, the show and the city that stole her heart away._

_She knew all those things._

_Then came the train tracks just outside of town. The dead leaves. The explanation Hilda had waited for her whole life._

_She finally_ understood _all those things._

* * *

In the abandoned kitchen, all became quiet.

 


	10. Shelved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loosing what was found and finding something lost.

Hilda dragged her feet on her way back home.  _Home_. It was where the heart was... It hadn't felt much like a home after the Snap. She thought she'd lost her heart forever when the old man turned to ash.

* * *

_Tears pricked her eyes, her fists clenched in fury. The room had gone quiet, so she continued, her voice clear and loud._

_"I am of Asgard. I am Hilda, daughter of Eldrid. I was banished and my mother died of sadness. This is all I have of her."_

_Her voice became quieter, almost pleading as she clutched the delicate bracelet._

_"Please don't take it away."_

_Big, strong arms wrapped around her shoulders, engulfing her in a warm hug, not unlike the ones her grandfather gave her. The ones she used to complain about because they were too tight. The kind of hug people give each other when they fear loosing one another. The kind she needed right now._

* * *

Thankfully, she hadn't lost her heart. No one who felt so many different _feelings_ as she had today could be heartless. It was part of why she was exhausted. Hope, sadness, anger, then hope again. Now all she felt was drained. She needed a shower, she always felt better after taking a shower. As she rounded the corner to her apartment, something in the alley shuffled.

* * *

_Thor pulled away, squeezing her shoulders. He stared at Hilda intensely._

_"I knew Eldrid, but my brother knew her_ very _well._

_Hilda knew what he was implying, but she didn't want to believe it. She didn't want to be there anymore. It was too much, too important to be true. She wanted to go back to the way it was, when she was just a random citizen. Go back, go back..._

_"Hilda, we have much to discuss."_

_All she could do was nod, as she moved forward with him. All she could do now was move forward. The others said something, Hilda didn't know what. She wasn't listening. She caught a bit of what Thor answered; not wanting to loose any more than he had... Last of his people... Niece._

* * *

She paid no mind to the sounds from the alley. All she could do was move forwards, like a tired zombie. Through the door, up the stairs and into the shower.

* * *

_"Stay in New York. Stay and protect the city."_

_Hilda shook her head._

_"I can't, I don't- I'm not..."_

_She looked Thor in the eye and she could've sworn she saw a glimmer in them._

_"You can. We're blood; we can do anything."_

_Hilda wrung her hands._

_"Why? Why me? Why can't I stay with you? We have to- I mean we haven't..."_

_She sighed, struggling to find the right words. Thor looked to the hard floor they were sitting on, propped up against the wall, opposite the kitchen._

_"It's too dangerous. People get hurt because of things I've done. The best way I can keep you safe, is to keep you away from Thanos."_

_F_ _or_ _y_ ea _rs she'd kept her bracelet on a shelf. That's where you keep precious things, on the shelf. Hilda was the bracelet._

* * *

As the fog in the bathroom cleared, so did the fog in Hilda's mind. She'd _done something._ She'd learnt something. She smiled at the blurry image in the mirror, a bittersweet smile, but a smile nonetheless. She smiled again, when she heard the pitter patter of rain on the fire escape.

Throwing her window open and inhaling the earthy smell, Hilda heard another noise coming from the alley below.

* * *

_Hilda picked at the hem of her sweater, pulling at a little thread._

_"I just want to help... I miss my grandpa..."_

_The man next to her nodded._

_"You can help the citizens. All we can do is move forwards; they'll need someone to help them."_

_Hilda cleared her throat and tried to lighten the mood, the conversation weighing on her shoulders._

_"I guess since no one's seen Spiderman in a while, they'll have to settle for me."_

_She didn't realise what that sentence meant. Friendly neighborhood Spiderman... Even him. Her shoulders slumped. She'd be doing this alone._

* * *

Meowing.

Somewhere among all the garbage was a very small, very loud little cat.

Hilda grabbed a blanket and rushed out the window.

* * *

_"This will not be the last you hear from me,_ Niece. _"_

_Hilda's nose crinkled as Thor put emphasis on the last word. It still didn't feel right._

_"It better not be..._ Uncle. _"_

_She awkwardly patted his arm and was instantly pulled into another bone crushing hug. He murmured something to her, although she wasn't sure who he was trying to convince._

_"Nothing is ever truly lost."_

_She left the building, looking back at her memorial. The crowd had left, the sun had set. All she could do now was move forwards._

* * *

She rummaged through the garbage, frantically searching for the box she'd left out for the fat pregnant cat, weeks earlier. She pushed a garbage can aside, finding the torn up shoe box and minuscule tabby kitten, dusty and alone. Wrapping it up in blankets, she glanced at the box again.

The rain had softened up the cardboard and washed away most of the evidence, but Hilda knew. She clutched the mewing cat tightly and whispered to it.

"Me too, little man, me too..."

* * *

 

The kitten purred on the couch; safe and dry.

She toyed with its long fur as it stretched and yawned. She smiled at the glass jar perched on the coffee table.

"What should we name it?"

A pause.

"How about... Forwards?"

* * *

* * *

* * *

"No, you're right, that's a terrible name."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all I will write for now. Gonna wait and see what the Endgame has in store. Hilda might return in later fics, standalones, if so desired. Thank you for reading and sticking around thus far.  
> Signed,  
> The Author


End file.
